Menu

#ProjectInspiredPoetry

He might act big for you
But behind the doors he’s kind,
A family man through and through.
He cries – yet denies.
He bleeds – yet will tease.
But behind the doors he’s kind,
A family man through and through.
If they challenged him he will not tolerate…
He is twisted like that – a true thug.
He will use his means – so it seems.
But behind the doors he’s kind,
A family man through and through.
Look in his eyes – a merciless dealer –
He’ll tear someone apart,
So don’t overstep the mark.
Yes – quite kind – to some (few, really).
But behind the doors he’s kind,
A family man through and through.

They mustn’t twist you
and turn you
and tie you up.
Squeeze you full of this filthy air
and let them pay for you.
You’re worth more.
I don’t want them shaping you,
they mustn’t touch you.
I can’t stand to hear you squeal
as they twist your form to what they want.
Nobody must treat you like a toy;
draw on a face of lies
and then forget about you…
Leave you to deflate
or burst your form into
unrecognisable features
as all the air in your body escapes
and you’re forgotten about
without a care or tear.

Under the misty moonlight
and the thick fog rolling out the club,
I saw him standing with her.
They were next to a blue car –
she was wearing crimson
and he a smile.
In that moment the beat dropped
and their spirits soared.
Nothing else mattered for them;
only the warm embrace of the other.

I can’t do this anymore.
But I love you.
No, no you don’t.
Why are you acting like this?
Get away from me – I saw what you did.
You don’t understand.
I understand perfectly…
It was just one night.
Just one night? Is that what I’m worth?
I’m sorry okay!
Sorry means nothing.
I’ve never felt like this about someone before…
Neither have I – it hurts doesn’t it? Just like your lies.
No – don’t leave me! Put the gun down! NO!

Poems are supposed to be written in a specific form and deal with important subject matter and have the punctuation required to heighten the artistic and social intention of the poet highlighting the socio-political context from which the work emerges well some of the greatest happenings have happened from challenging what is and what should be in the eye of the creator for that is art and when art is caged by people who believe they have authority on freedom of thought that is when creativity dies so just know this is a poem because I wrote it and I am a poet so don’t tell me how to think creatively

He’s lost again –
gone wandering in the concrete jungle.
Fifth time this week.
He usually comes back when hungry –
I wonder what he does…
Is it drugs? Or worse?
Who does he meet up with?
Does he at all?
He doesn’t seem to care.
Too innocent and unsuspecting…
But the world is cruel, my friend,
the world is cruel;
not fun and games like a
Tom and Jerry episode.
This is real life.
With real problems.